


Of Meat Lovers and Drunken Promises

by Aidant



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BFF TaoKai, M/M, Werewolves, brief chantao, so zitao's roommate is a werewolf, white-collar werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aidant/pseuds/Aidant
Summary: Zitao read a werewolf short story on Wattpad once, it was ridiculously dramatic, and erotic, and illogical, and he loved it. Then he read a chaptered story and he was so engrossed he didn’t clean the flat or do anything but read for three days.





	

Zitao read a werewolf short story on Wattpad once, it was ridiculously dramatic, and erotic, and illogical, and he loved it. Then he read a chaptered story and he was so engrossed he didn’t clean the flat or do anything but read for three days.

 Jongin read a few lines over his shoulder and snorted.

“Why the hell are you reading that?” he grimaced.

Because it’s romantic, sexy and crying is a pastime of Zitao’s? He didn’t know but the omega was in heat again and still refused the approaches of the alpha and oh god, the leader of the enemy pack just kidnapped her, she’s tied to a wall in his cave and he’ll have his way with her forcefully (though she’ll like it, they always like it) unless the alpha she really loves comes and saves her in time.

Zitao shrugged.

“It’s stupid, and misleading.” Jongin jumped over the back of the sofa and landed heavily beside Zitao almost knocking the laptop off of his legs.

“You mean being a werewolf in reality isn’t even an eighth as exciting as it is on paper?” Zitao smirked at him and Jongin watched him deadpan before he flicked Zitao’s nose.

Zitao cursed him under his breath as he rubbed it.

“We’re not sex-crazed animals with superiority complexes, that’s what I mean.”

Zitao snorted, “Says the guy who brings home a different person every weekend.”

 

* * *

 

He met Jongin a week before he started university, that was five years ago. Zitao didn’t want to live on campus and convinced his parents to let him rent a flat nearby. It came with old furniture and Jongin, but it was cheap so Zitao overlooked that second thing. They were awkward for a very long time but Zitao was never very good at that hiding his emotions thing and Jongin has never been very capable at that ignoring Zitao thing. Jongin was there for him when, middle of the first semester, Zitao dropped out of the university his parents paid for him to go to Korea and attend, since then it’s been pretty easy.

Until the werewolf stuff came up. But Jongin has held a naked Zitao fully clothed under the shower while Zitao had one of many panic attacks over the university-situation, so he guesses he couldn’t complain much about Jongin accidentally scaring the shit out of him in their living room one full-moon night. 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s an obvious problem with dropping out of school and not telling your parents about it, especially when they still call every week and are looking forward to your return to China after ‘graduation’.  Zitao is supposed to have a MBA, he has instead a fairly promising career as a make-up artist. It used to be a secret hobby but his knowledge of cosmetics became unexpectedly useful because his parents kept sending cheques for books and tuition and rent (well, he needed the rent money).

It took a few years, and he’s still freelance, but he makes enough for the rent and he has convinced his parents that his ‘part-time-job’ supported him enough that they could stop sending those little guilt slips every month.

One night after a fashion show job Zitao stops by a convenience store to splurge more than a quarter of his night’s earnings on a bottle of Jose Cuervo and take-out. It’s 2:00am and the after party of the fashion show was still in it’s prime, but Jongin had replied to his text, apparently he was indeed home (surprising for a Saturday night). Zitao told everyone he was tired. When he got home Jongin was waiting in the kitchen.

“I smelled pizza,” he paused reaching for the plates in the top cupboard as he glanced at the things Zitao was resting on the counter, Jongin smiled immediately, “and tequila.”

“Who said I was sharing?”

“Aww, he thinks he has a choice.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in some guy-place doing guy-stuff?”

Jongin crinkled his nose as he placed two plates and some shot glasses in front of Zitao, “Not in the mood to go out, tonight I shall conquer Bioshock Infinite.”

“So just you and you’re best friend then?” Zitao nods at Jongin’s video game console in the living room and the other man smirks.

“What’s the occasion?” Jongin asks about the spread, he reaches to open the pizza box but Zitao slaps his hand away. He takes the box up with the plates on top and heads for the living room.

“In here.”

Jongin’s a little surprised because Zitao has been vehement on two things never touching his new coffee table and that is food and Jongin’s feet. But he shrugs and brings the bottle and shot glasses with him, resting them on the place on the table that Ztao has cleared of the fancy candles he never lights.

Zitao grins brightly at him as he sits on a cushion on the floor then takes a slice of pizza, folds it and bites. Jongin stares, a small smile on his lips, because Zitao doesn’t have a plate. Jongin’s been scolded terribly for that, banned once from the living room even, he should take advantage of the moment but Zitao is still grinning even as he chews.

“Seriously, what happened?” Jongin sits on the sofa and serves himself pizza, he uses a plate- force of habit.

“The best thing happened.”

“You won an unlimited free Gucci pass for life.”

“The  _second_ best thing happened.”

Jongin bit his pizza, chewing as he thought, “I don’t know, you’ve only ever mentioned the Gucci pass thing and I still don’t think it’s possible for you physically become a panda plushy so…”

“ _Kwon Jiyong_  was at that small fashion show I did tonight.” Zitao paused for effect but his best friend’s open-mouthed mastication never halted, Jongin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head waiting for him to continue. Zitao frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that. Do I ever just  _suppose_  you know who Robin van Persie is?” Zitao gave him a blank look and Jongin shook his head, “he’s a football player by the way.”

“Never heard of him. Kwon Jiyong is one of the best stylists in the country; he’s worked everywhere and with everyone, and done everything.”

“Never heard of him.” Jongin said with a full mouth and a dismissive shrug. Zitao made one of those expressions that reminded Jongin of moody kittens but with pouty lips and sharper claws.

Zitao pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket then took a small card out and placed it on the table for Jongin to take. Jongin read the name of Mr. Everywhere/one/thing on the face of the black and modernly sleek business card. There were some phone numbers underneath it. When he looked up at Zitao his friend was excited again, his lips puckered in a self-satisfied little smile that Jongin was familiar with.

“He said he liked my work. How the hell did he even notice? There were four other stylists doing the show too but he singled mines out. He said that there may be ‘a place on his team’ for me. I’m supposed to call him next week.”

The smile on Zitao’s face is pure unrestrained, crinkle-eyed joy so Jongin can’t help mirror it even though he was soon chuckling  _at_  Zitao instead of grinning with him.

“That’s great.” He said after a while and Zitao nodded.

 “Are you proud of me?”

“I’d be more proud if you’d told me you met van Persie…”

Zitao’s grin fell and he aimed a cushion at his friend’s head, Jongin didn’t bother dodging it because there was pizza sauce on his cheek and Zitao would have no one to blame but himself tomorrow when he finds it. He does take more revenge though by holding Kwon Jiyong’s card above his head and getting ready to devour it whole.

There was a very girly screech (which Jongin does pester Zitao about later) before he hears scrambling and the wind is knocked out of him as a body tackles him for the card. Jongin often thinks there is something endearing about Zitao wrestling him, it's because he’s used to being sliced, bit and clawed till he’s bleeding when he wrestles with his friends, with Zitao it’s pinching, lashes and soft punches.

Laughing, he lets Zitao take the card back after not much of a fight, Zitao lands one last punch on his shoulder for good measure,  though he pouts when it seems to hurt him more than it did Jongin.

“Tequila?” Jongin begs with his best puppy eyes, he holds up his empty shot glass and Zitao sighs as he opens the bottle.

He fills his and Jongin’s glasses, “This was expensive Jongin, don’t drink all in one go.”

“Don’t blame me if you can’t keep up.” Jongin smirks behind the tilted shot glass before he downs the drink in one gulp and ahs like it was water.

Zitao’s eyes narrow, “Challenge accepted.” He says before he downs his then promptly coughs while his best friend points and laughs at his expression.

 

 

Half way through the bottle, and the room is spinning so Zitao lies flat on his back on the floor. He stays there because he can no longer feel his arms and legs and when Zitao asks Jongin if they are still there the other man laughs uncontrollably for twenty minutes before he lies down beside him. 

Zitao closes his eyes, he listens to Jongin’s breathing, the inhales and outs becoming longer as he calms. He saw in a movie that werewolves were abnormally warm, and large, hairy, with sharp edges and terrible manners. Jongin is nothing like that. His manners do need some work but Zitao is often warmer to the touch than him and he’s taller than Jongin, as for claws Zitao has only ever saw those on Jongin once and he wasn’t in human form. He shudders at that memory.

“Your father called.” Jongin tells him and Zitao eyes open slowly. Jongin doesn’t need to tell him what was said, it’s pretty monotonous by now and extremely tiring. Zitao is bored sick of his own lie and he avoids his parents now mostly because he’s not confident that he won’t let something carelessly slip out his mouth that would bring everything crashing down.

Though to a part of him the crash is very appealing, fascinating even. It may wake him up.

“I want to tell them,” he starts softly but Jongin hears and looks at him. He studies Zitao’s profile quietly.

“I think you should, a long time ago you should have told them, but I guess that’s why it’s harder now.”

“Yeah, it’s too late, if I say it now it would definitely- just crush them.” If he were sober he wouldn’t be saying this, Jongin knows this too, normally just thinking about this makes Zitao cringe.

Zitao hums, he turns to his side so he could rest his head on Jongin’s chest, curl against his side with his arm around Jonngin’s waist. Jongin’s hollow breaths blend with the thumps of his heart under Zitao’s ear and it really seems to want to lull him to sleep, he could clean the mess on the coffee table tomorrow, bath tomorrow, worry tomorrow.

Jongin’s next words gently tug him back, “Promise me you’ll tell them.”

Zitao tries to remember what Jongin had been saying (heck, what had  _he_  said himself) before that lead up to this but only comes up with some far away mumbles that aren’t very useful.

“Why would I do that?” he asks sleepily.

Jongin looks down at him and Zitao does that kitten thing again, showing Jongin his teeth.

“Why do you do that?” Jongin asked amused.

“I’m growling at you, it’s werewolf language.”

Jongin is all laughed out tonight so he just coughs out a chuckle and shakes his head, “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Tell you what, if you promise to tell them that you dropped out, I’ll-”

Zitao was already slipping back to sleep but he opened his eyes and watched Jongin mull over what he wanted to say.

“I promise I’ll tell the pack the truth.” Zitao cocked an eyebrow up at that.

“What’s 'the truth’?”

“That I have a human roommate.” He says simply and Zitao’s second eyebrow meets the first.

“You mean, you never told them?”

Jongin shakes his head.

“That’s why I’ve never meet them isn’t it? You told me that they’ll eat me!”

Jongin chuckles like he just remembered a good joke, Zitao punches him as hard as he could on his stomach, which isn’t very hard at all because he still can’t really feel his arms, and his fist just bounces off of Jongin’s abs like it’s a board of wood (as usual). Zitao rolls away, biting his bottom lip as he curls his body around his throbbing hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Zitao is sticking raindrop sized multi-colored crystals onto Oh Sehun’s chest. He started on the elegantly curled patterns two hours ago and though he’s almost finished he still has Sehun’s neck to do. The photo shot director stops to look over his shoulder, which sort of unnerves Zitao, but he smiles and moves slightly out of her way so she could look up at Sehun better.

“It’s perfect, I love it.” she says glibly, then points at Sehun’s face as she walks away, “Just air-brush more of that shimmery stuff onto his eyes there.”

“Yes, of course.”

Sehun sighs exasperatedly when she’s out of ear shot, “My legs are tired, I’ve been on this stupid platform forever, I feel like I’m going to pass out.” he pouts.

Zitao rolls his eyes, “Whine a little louder, she didn’t hear you.” Sehun scoffs, “Besides, I’m the one who’s doing all the work so shut up and look pretty.”

Sehun takes a water break when he is finished with his chest, in the mean time Zitao get’s his station ready to do the rest of the make-up. He has a minor silent panic attack when he thinks he’s run out of the ‘shimmery stuff’ but finds just a little more of it in a bottle at the bottom of his bag. It’s now 5:00am, he’s been here since two and the table of muffins, fruit and thin little sandwiches the catering staff are unloading for the crew looks something like heaven but Sehun has already returned, reluctantly, to his podium and is giving Zitao a stubborn look.

“So, I heard you got in with Kwon.” Sehun wiggles his eyes and Zitao hisses at him for moving.

“You’re a pervert, and it’s just an internship for now.”

“Don’t be modest, every stylist in this room would sell their soul to be mentored by someone like that.”

Zitao grined, “I know. Hey, do you know who Robin van Pussy is?”

Sehun shrugs, “I don’t know, is he a porn star?”

“Jongin says he plays football.”

“Never heard of him.”

Zitao leaves the set by mid afternoon. His head is pounding because he is starving. He wears his largest sunglass to cover his eye bags and a beanie because he is pretty sure he looks like how  he feels if Sehun doing that really stupid but somehow cute panda dance every time he looked at him didn’t indicate that. He sighs heavily when he walks into the entrance hallway of the flat and sees an unfamiliar, and rather large, pair of shoes. He is in the mood for a bath, food and sleep, not one of Jongin’s loud guest, because that is what Jongin’s friends usually were, really loud and messy.

“Jongin, what does it say about inviting people over in the guest clause of our roommate agreement?” Zitao says loud enough to be heard throughout the kitchen and living room as he walks further into the flat.

“It says that Zitao needs to remove that giant butt plug up his ass and drink a beer.”  He would of taken offence to that but Jongin is suddenly back hugging him and he’s too tired to grab onto his hair and yank him off like he wants to.

“What are you doing?” Zitao whines as he is manhandled into the living room where he could hear the television on.

There is someone on his sofa, when the person sees him and Jongin they stand and Zitao’s eyes widen slightly because this guy, though slender, is taller than him. Jongin finally releases him and when he stands between them he has the widest grin.

“Zitao, this is Chanyeol, he’s in my pack.” Jongin says.

Chanyeol looks him up and down as he firmly shakes Zitao’s hand. He’s never seen another werewolf besides Jongin, as expected Chanyeol looks no different from a human. When he speaks his voice is so deep ZItao shivers, then blushes because Chanyeol smirks at him.

“Jongin talks about you a lot- recently.”

“Well now you’ve met him.” Jongin says.

Chanyeol chuckles, “Still don’t really know what he looks like.”

There’s a pause where everyone looks at Zitao and it takes the lone human in the room a while before he gets the hint, “Oh! Sorry.” Zitao removes his sunglasses and the beanie then immediately regrets it because his hair is all everywhere and whatever make-up he once had on was gone sometime around nine this morning when he drowned his face with cold water in the studio bathroom because he kept falling asleep while standing.

He hides his blushing face with his hands from the staring guys, “Sorry, I look terrible.”

“No, you look fine.” He heard a harmony of and when Zitao peeked between his fingers Jongin was giving his pack-friend a clear ‘what the fuck’ look. Chanyeol shrugged.

“I’m going to take a bath.” He took the chance, “Nice meeting you, Chanyeol.”

“Yeah, you too.”Chanyeol smiled and it was big, toothy and bright, not goofily wide like Jongin’s was. When Jongin smiled like that it made Zitao want to laugh at him, or with him, or whatever. “You’ll be back though right?”

Zitao stopped, he had picked back up his heavy bag with all his make-up supplies and tools. Jongin was giving Chanyeol a funny look which the taller man was ignoring, his eyes only on Zitao, “Um, yeah, well if you want me to. Don’t want to get in the way of your guy stuff.” He glanced at the football game going on the television.

“It’s no problem, we should hang out, the three of us.”

“He was up pretty early, I think ZItao’s tired, and we’re  _not_  watching dramas.” Jongin said and Zitao glared at him.

“I don’t mind hanging out actually, I’d love to watch football, my favorite player is van Pussy.” Jongin choked on air, then he bent over and Zitao watched his shoulders jerk up and down as he imagined himself throwing his make-up bag at his giant douche of a best-friend’s head.

Chanyeol’s smile faltered and he looked confused, “Wha-”

“I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Zitao said before he got out of the room as quickly as he could.

 

 

Chanyeol turned out to be the loudest of Jongin’s friends, and as for the mess, Zitao had fallen asleep within an hour of watching that football game and when he woke up Chanyeol was gone. Though Zitao had no real evidence he was certain the crumbs and empty soda cans were Jongin’s fault, not that he wasn’t cleaning it, he found Jongin washing dishes in the kitchen.

Zitao stayed wrapped in the blanket he had found over himself when he woke up and shuffled drowsily through the kitchen on his way to his bedroom.

“Don’t forget to vacuum the corn chips on the armchair,” he muttered as he passed Jongin’s back, “you know, the one  _you_  sat on. By the way I’d sleep with one eye open tonight if I were you.”

“Have I ever told you how cute your sleepy death threats are?” Jongin asks and smiles softly at the unintelligent grumbled reply he receives (probably more threats).

When he gets to his bedroom Zitao falls face first onto his bed and decides he’d just sleep in the position he lands even though parts of him are still off the bed. He looks up when he feels Jongin sit beside him.

“So, when are you going to call your parents?”

“Why am I calling my parents again?” Zitao asks his mattress.

“Think back to meat lover’s pizza and drunken promises.”

Zitao groans.

“I did my part, I told my pack everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“I told them that I think you’d taste better braised in butter because you eat a lot of food with garlic.” Zitao brings his fist down onto Jongin’s waist and Jongin smiles.

“That’s not funny.” The lump under the covers says in a small voice.

Jongin chuckles, “They’re not going to eat you Tao.”

Zitao peeks at him over the covers, at the gentle turn up of Jongins lips, “Promise?”

“Promise.” Jongin says as he readjusts Zitao’s bangs on his forehead, “They were really cool about it actually. We don’t all live together like some packs do, Wufan is pretty lax, he lets us live and work wherever we want as long as we’re there for the pack when needed. But none of the others have lived with a human before so I wasn’t sure what they would say.”

Zitao studied him for a moment then turned away, resting his head on his arm, wondering where the hell was his pillow. (Under Jongin’s ass) “You were ashamed of me.” He tried to sound hurt.

Jongin leaned over him, intentionally crushing Zitao with too much weight, “Aw baby, don’t be like that.” he pouted then laughed when he was pushed off.

“Prick.”

Jongin shook his head with a frown, “Who taught my innocent panda Korean words like that?”

“You did.”

“But really, Zitao, the whole pack knows about you now so don’t be surprised if they pop up here and there.”

“What? Did you pass a picture around or something?”

Jongin smiled, “Maybe. Answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“Your parents.”

Zitao sighs. Every morning since that night he wonders why he made that stupid promise, then he opens the cupboard to get a pack of French roast, lays his eyes on the quarter of Jose Cuevo next to Jongin’s ramen stock and he scowls.

“Tomorrow.” Is what he usually tells himself and that is what he tells Jongin now.

 

Jongin wasn’t lying about his pack being everywhere. Zitao was beginning to feel like he was in that Fight Club movie the werewolf likes to watch over and over.

Kwon Jiyong likes to have a steaming hot Café Americano at 7:00am every morning and it was apparently now Zitao’s job to get them. That day he was running a little late as he turned into a comfy looking café four blocks from Kwon Jiyong’s studio. Of course it was packed but not  _as_  packed as the last three cafés he had poked his head into and abandoned.

Tapping his foot on the hardwood as he checked the time on his cell phone, Zitao frowned at the device like this was all it’s fault. The café was visually perfect, like a sketch, with it’s arched windows pouring light onto small circular tables, each with twin chairs and crisp white table clothes, speckled light bouncing off crystal and the entire place smelt like warm caramel. There were flowers in all the right nooks, a small black board with the day’s specials and green canopies over each window, even the fat calico lazily swishing her tail on top one of the pastry display cases seem to just tie it all in. Zitao makes a mental note, in caption, to stumble upon this place a couple more times when he isn’t in danger of being fired.

He counts twelve people ahead of him in line and feels like pulling out his hair. He doesn’t notice the man that appears next to him until a finger pokes his shoulder. Zitao looks down at large slanted eyes and, what he on the spot dubs, ‘squashy’ cheeks and his eyes soften when the man smiles at him.

“Zitao right?” the baby-face guy says and Zitao’s face falls a little.

“How-”

“What’s your order?” he’s interrupted and without thinking Zitao splutters his order. The man smiles politely as he nods his head then is gone towards the front of the line. Zitao watches him talk to the flustered cashier over the heads of the other customers then he returns with the Americano, Zitao’s chai tea latte and a bag which contains the best lemon poppy seed muffin Zitao will ever taste when he opens it back at the studio.

“Wow, thanks.” he tries to smile but he is way too confused to do it properly.

The man just grins back and walks him to the door, he pats Zitao on the shoulder, “Come back again, when it’s less busy. It was nice meeting you.”

“Xiumin-hyung.” Jongin tells him later, they’re at their favorite Chinese restaurant (Zitao’s favorite and Jongin’s by default). “What?”

“A werewolf running a French café.” Zitao throws out there and Jongin frowns.

“Didn’t know you were the racist type, Zitao.” He says and Zitao starts a breathy laugh that turns stale and soon flat real quick when Jongin doesn’t join in, he just folds his arms over his chest and glares.

Zitao coughs.

“Where did you think werewolves work?” Jongin asks him.

“I don’t know, I thought they just ran around the forest or something.”

“You need to leave the internet alone, Zitao.”

 

* * *

 

 

Zitao tries to have a more open mind about the werewolves that are popping into his life.

Joonmyeon is a university professor who randomly starts talking to Zitao at a bus stop and eventually buys him lunch at Xiumin’s café and he listens attentively as the two swap stories about Jongin’s teen years.

Kyungsoo is a corporate lawyer. He thoroughly scared the hell out of Zitao, slipping out of an alley in front of him as he was walking home around 11:00pm one night. If it wasn’t for the slim fit Armani suit he noticed his apparent ‘mugger’ was wearing Zitao may have put his ten years of Wushu to use (probably wouldn’t have worked anyway). The smaller man grinned all gums and crinkled eyes at Zitao’s defensive stance and teary eyes then proceeded to get Zitao drunk in a pub nearby. He isn’t sure what else happened that night but by the morning after his was puking sticky margaritas while Jongin whined about not being invited.

Chanyeol is a musician and he comes over a lot. Mostly it’s when Jongin is there too and the two werewolves take up the living room or go out together all night. Zitao is surprised to leave the studio one night and find the tall werewolf waiting in front of the building. The full moon has a deep, almost gold, taint to it tonight as it hangs in the bleak sky, the stars are outshone by the city’s blinking neons and buzzing street lights.

“Am I too late for my make-up consultation?” Chanyeol tries to sound worried but he’s also fighting a grin and losing.

Zitao chuckles, cringing slightly at the mental image of Chanyeol taking styling tips from Kwon. He’s used to Chanyeol in jeans, graphic tees and hoddies, guitar strapped to his back and an unpretentious smile on his lips.

“What’s up?”

“Jongin’s disappeared, want to go get dinner with me?”

Zitao is not surprised, his best friend tends to go missing every full moon. It began after that night, when Zitao had first found out the truth about Jongin, he was so freaked out he ran out of the flat and almost boarded a plane right back to China (in an old t-shirt and boxer shorts). Jongin had told him that this time of the month did funny things to werewolves, he promised Zitao that he wouldn’t scare him like that again.

“As long as I’m not the dinner.”

Chanyeol’s smile slipped into something much more sly, “Wouldn’t mind if you were.” He said smoothly then his eyes widened at Zitao worried expression. He held his hands up and explained quickly, “I was flirting with you! I swear it wasn’t a threat. I’d never do that.”

Zitao laughed then let Chanyeol lead him down town, “I know this great place.”

 

 

The place turned out to be in a posh modern apartment building, 15th floor, Joonmyeon opens the door and invites them in, and he leads them to the kitchen of the spacious but comfortably decorated flat. There Zitao finds Kyungsoo at the marble top island, prepping vegetables and what looks like beef.

“What’s tonight’s special?” Chanyeol asks him as they sit on the stools lined just outside the kitchen.

“You know, Xiumin-hyung’s the one who provides casual dining at his place, not me.” Kyungsoo has a deep voice that is similar to Chanyeol’s, though smoother, melodic. Zitao has only known him for a few weeks but he is already used to the way he pairs his bluntness with easygoing smirks.

“But you’re cooking is better than Xiumin-hyungs.” Chanyeol blinks at Kyungsoo sweetly and the other man hides his pleased smile by turning around to wash the vegetables in the sink.

“Hon, he says the same to Xiumin-hyung.” Joonmyeon says, Kyungsoo glares at the Chanyeol over his shoulder.

“That’s it, I’m only feeding Zitao.” He says and Chanyeol looks almost heartbroken, it makes Zitao chuckle at him and Kyungsoo looks particularly pleased, “By the way,  _Zitao_ , I’m making yukgaejang.”

Chanyeol gaspes and Kyungsoo does this deep evil chuckle that makes everyone in the room shiver.

The food takes a while to cook so the four of them sit around in Kyungsoo and Joonmyeon’s living room as the pot simmers and Zitao tells the werewolves about home and how he met Jongin. They eat Kyungsoo’s yukgaejong in the kitchen even though Joonmyeon was intent on doing so at the dining table in the other room.

“He’s just showing off.” Chanyeol tells Zitao as they place bowls of rice and kimchi on the setup counter top, “Trying to give us starving artists a chance to eat at a real dining table.”

“Actually, Chanyeol, I think Zitao is pretty successful already.” Joonmyeon smiles at him and Zitao blushes, he is about to remind Joonmyeon that he is actually always struggling, always coming just close enough to pay rent every month and that he was still on the wire between a permanent fixture at Kwon Jiyong’s studio and an easily replaceable intern, but Kyungsoo caught his stare. He looked serious.

“Hey, don’t talk down yourself; you work really hard don’t you? All Chanyeol does is play around with Baekhyun and Jongin all day.”

Zitao is a little overwhelmed, he tries to smile, docking his head as he helps set the counter, blinking away tears. But he can’t help it, he’s an emotional sap, he’s only cried about twice today anyway and he thinks a little recognition from someone is a good enough reason to shed a tear.

“You’re all really nice to me,” he tells them as they sit down on the stools, Chanyeol beside as Joonmyeon and Kyungsoo sit opposite, they all look at Zitao and then each other, “and we haven’t known each other that long.”

Joonmyeon gives him one of those gentle smiles that he is becoming familiar with and already makes him feel comfortable, “Well, Jongin really likes you, you’ve both been so close all this time and even though we only just found out about you it feels like you’re already- well, um.”

“Close to us,” Kyungsoo finishes, “Like a part of the pack.”

Zitao doesn’t know what to think of that, he isn’t a werewolf, he kind of thought that would be a requirement if one wants to join a pack of werewolves. Didn’t he have to fight a member to prove himself? Maybe hunt and kill something? Make some sort of contribution?

Nodding his head mutely, Zitao tires to hold in sniffles because he is among manly-badass-werewolves for Christ’s sake, he needs to represent for the humans. Zitao starts eating immediately, complementing Kyungsoo on the taste and asking him for the recipe because he is tired of coming home to Jongin’s ‘home-cooked’ cup ramen (“because…it was made… at home. Ba dum tss!”) and just to get the conversation rolling away from this moment.

Kyungsoo and Joonmyeon walked them to the door after dinner, it was late, around 3:00am, but Zitao declined their invitation to stay because he didn’t want to impose, his flat wasn’t that far away, he and Chanyeol could walk.

“I just realized,” Kyungsoo said, “Where’s Jongin?” Chanyeol looked at him like ‘really, only now?’ and Kyungsoo shrugged, “We still had fun without him, just thought he would be the one bringing Zitao here.”

“It’s the full moon, he normally disappears this time.” Zitao explained, “Isn’t it the same for you?” Zitao flushes after he asks this, suddenly avoiding everyone stares because he thinks of what he has read about werewolves and full moons and it’s all a heady mess of porn, forest massacres and general debauchery.

Joonmyeon smiles almost sentimentally, “Sometimes the younger ones find it more difficult than usual to control certain- urges during this time.” Zitao gets the feeling that Joonmyeon is trying to be careful with how he says this, sounding like a father explaining where babies come from to their eight year old and it does nothing to quell Zitao’s autonomous imagination.

 

 

It’s cold outside as he walks with Chanyeol, never dead there are still people the city streets though the solemn business suits and stiff bustle has been swapped for nocturnal partiers and a couple creepy lurkers. Zitao feels quite safe though. Chanyeol takes his shivering hand into his warmer one, using this as an excuse to walk extra close so that Zitao’s shoulder bumps into his chest sometimes.

In front of the door to his and Jongin’s flat Zitao rummages through his bag for his keys while Chanyeol leans against the wall beside him watching.

“Found them.” Zitao grins, he unlocks the door, looking to Chanyeol as he hold it open, “Thanks for inviting me, it was really, great.” It’s disappointing that he couldn’t be more eloquent but the word was honestly the best fit for tonight, Zitao wouldn’t regret being with the three werewolves even if he’s scheduled to do make-up for a bride and her twelve maids in four hours.

“Glad you enjoyed yourself.” Chanyeol says softly in the still hallway and they’re actually pretty close now that Zitao is paying attention. “Enough maybe to do it again?”

Zitao smiled at the thought, “Hm, yes, that would be nice.”

“Even if it’s just you and me next time?”

Making an expression like he was thinking about it Zitao leans against the door, closer to Chanyeol, “Are you asking me out on a date, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol mocks surprise, “No, no I was actually planning to eat you this time.”

Zitao rolls his eyes as Chanyeol chuckles at him, he feels the taller man lean in and he looks up closing his eyes as wind bitten lips press onto his still slightly glossed ones. But then he freezes when he hears something like deep, throaty rumbling just over his shoulder. Chanyeol stills also and Zitao wipes his head around to find Jongin standing at the end of the hallway, but he looks so different. Iridescent eyes that gleam in the artificial overhead lights, rigid arms curled like claws at his side and his nose crinkled, teeth bared, he scowls at Chanyeol.

The atmosphere in the hallway has hardened, it’s spiked and thunderous and makes Zitao sick to his stomach. He tries steps away from Jongin but bumps into Chanyeol, he jumps for the door when Jongin takes off towards them. Zitao is grateful to his quick reflexes, and Chanyeol for pushing him out of the way, because the two werewolves crash into each other so harshly Zitao feels the impact shudder against the walls and quake the floor. Then it’s all curses and shouts, inhuman growls and struggling.

With wide eyes he watches as Jongin tries to rip Chanyeol apart with his bare hands on the floor.

“Jongin!” he shouts when his best friend finally get his hands around Chanyeol’s throat and the other werewolf growls deep and long up at him.

“You’re out of your mind.” Chanyeol grasps, his fingers are digging into Jongin’s wrists, “You’re not thinking straight, calm down you dumbass!”

“I told you not to touch him!” Jongin screams into Chanyeol’s face.

“If you want him so bad,” Chanyeol flips over and using all his strength throws Jongin off and almost down the length of the hallway, “then man up and claim him!”

Jongin recovers quickly, he crouches and Zitao watches him transform, ripping flesh like tattered clothing giving way to dark grey fur. Jongin is a beast now and he just seems too big to Zitao, close to bursting against the edge of the hallway ceiling, too menacing as a sound similar to thunder washes over and surrounds everything. Zitao shuts and locks the front door then runs to his room where he does the same to that door then his closet door. He sits in his closet, hidden among a shroud of his own jackets and tops, and he closes his eyes and tries to calm down.

Chanyeol and Jongin fighting loudly outside, he can feel it, it shakes the entire flat. A few minutes later and it stops, Zitao could hear Chanyeol’s voice, booming and fast at first but then it comes down till it’s nothing at all. Zitao’s shoulders begin to relax because it feels like it could be over. He’s crying now when he hears Jongin’s voice calling for him through the flat, but it’s muffled, Zitao could tell that he is still outside.

“Zitao, let me in.” he says but Zitao couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he definitely didn’t want to, but his legs seemed to be locked under him. He just shrinks further into the closet as Jongin’s voice becomes louder, sometimes taking a frantic pitch as he apologizes and begs Zitao to let him in.

Something persists in Zitao though, something tells him not to, maybe it’s some sort of self-preserving survival instinct but it is justified when he feels his cell phone vibrate with a text message. Sniffling he reads the message from Chanyeol telling him not to let Jongin in, to not worry, he’ll take Jongin away for a while.

Sure enough, after a few more painful moments of listening to Jongin at the front door everything goes quiet and Zitao falls asleep curled in his closet.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been three years since he was late for an appointment, Zitao realizes as he is let into the hotel room by the bride’s mother and she is all narrowed mouth and cold eyes at him. It doesn’t help that he looks like shit, like some unprofessional, novice, shoddy ‘make-up artist’, not to be taken seriously. He probably won’t even be referred much less called back- honestly, he could beat himself up over this forever. Zitao bows repeatedly and apologizes then gets to work; he has decided that the least he can do is make the women look like effortless supermodels even though he has only half the original time to do it.

Jongin wasn’t home when he woke up that morning, the door was still locked anyway and Zitao didn’t know how he felt about seeing him. He was truthfully just really confused and a bit scared, the later causing him to feel strangely guilty in some corner of his heart because this was  _Jongin_. Though he has been a bit wary of the wolf side of his best friend Zitao has never felt pure terror like that before.

When Jongin comes back home the day after Zitao knows because the flat is cleaned, everything he has left around is back in its place, Jongin never really cleans as meticulously as that unless it’s for some reason. This looks like some sort of apology to Zitao but he can’t be sure because by the third day of Jongin being back they haven’t actually seen each other. Maybe Zitao is avoiding Jongin, but the other man seems to be doing the same by being conveniently not home the same time Zitao is, when they are at the flat together the atmosphere is so thick neither leaves their bedroom, communication between them has shriveled down to taciturn text messages and one word replies.

By Sunday the proverbial shit hits the fan, the ‘shit’ being, strangely enough, Zitao’s gym bag on the kitchen counter where the human mindlessly forgets it on his dash for the bathroom after he returned from his Sunday morning yoga class. The ‘fan’, if there was one, may be Jongin’s situational mysophobia, which seems to have been set off by their mute ‘fight’, because Jongin meets Zitao’s bag there and quite literally goes ape shit crazy.

Zitao wasn’t entirely sure what was happening until the shouting and crashing became louder, at first he feared that the other night was repeating itself, but no, this wasn’t like that. Jongin was indeed loud but he just sounded frustrated, and it was almost comical how the only words Zitao could recognize from his best friend’s angry ranting were profanities and Zitao’s name.

Turning the water off because he could hear Jongin’s heavy footfalls nearing almost ominously, Zitao only has time to get out of the shower before the door trembles like something heavy was thrown at it. Whatever it was thumps on the floor and Zitao rips the door open, eyes wide, dripping wet, to see that it was his gym bag. Jongin stands panting, hair messy and obviously pissed but quietly satisfied with the warranted reaction he receives.

“Wha-”

“What?” Jongin snaps, cutting Zitao off with an amused quirk to his lips which does a great job at propelling Zitao from shocked to furious pretty fucking quickly.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“Your fucking disregard for the sublime spotlessness of  _my_  kitchen!”

“No, I mean your  _real_  problem besides the fact that you’re the most tactless childish idiot in Korea.”

“I’m the child? You couldn’t even approach me all week when you’re obviously the one with the problem, but I’m the immature one?”

“That’s because you’ve been avoiding me!” Zitao is so astonished he’s breathless. “You delusional- crazy-fucking-” Jongin quirks an eyebrow up when Zitao scowls and makes this peculiar sound between a growl and whimper. Then the human steps back into the bathroom and slams the door shut in Jongin’s face.

The werewolf takes exactly three deep breathes so that he doesn’t tear the door to shreds, because everyone knows he’s capable of it. Really, Zitao should have been grateful that Jongin only pounded his fist against it instead. But the human still had the audacity to look  _agitated_  when he opened the door again.

“What!?”

“What? Am I  _scaring_  you? Are you going to run and hide from me again? Lock me out without even listening?” Jongin’s tone becomes rougher as he goes.

“It’s kind of hard to listen when your life is in  _danger_ , Jongin.”

“You really thought I was going to kill you?” Jongin stated.

“Giant werewolf flipping out in the hallway, that’s pretty convincing! Try to look at it from my perspective. How would you have reacted if something bigger, and stronger and just scary powerful was having a tantrum inside? You’re like a giant shark-lion-bear thing and I’m this tiny, weak mouse-shrimp-baby panda thing that whales swallow as a snack, like not even a full meal, just this teeny appetizer. Wushu never prepared me for this!”

Zitao’s hands are in his hair and tears are gathering in his eyes. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip then says evenly, “You should have trusted me, you should know that I’d never hurt you.”

Zitao studies Jongin’s eyes for a moment; they are full, steady on him but maybe just a little vulnerable. It shakes his revolve, he feels it pushing a ball of emotion in his throat but he fights it, he shakes his head and speaks, trying to sound angry but he knows his voice is brittle, “You were hurting Chanyeol.”

Jongin’s face hardens, he releases a puff of air through his nose as he visibly tries not to look too agitated just by the mentioning of the other werewolf, “He had it coming.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s messing around with things that have nothing to do with him.” Jongin replies like that was the end of all discussion on that topic.

“I like him.” He mutters, his eyes shift away from his best friend’s.

“No you don’t.” Jongin glares at Zitao, he takes the other man’s chin between his finger and tilts his head up so that their eyes meet.“Trying to make me jealous?” He asks with a childish petulance and it makes a small smile tilt the edges of Zitao’s kittenish lips that Jongin can’t seem to keep his eyes from observing.

“You can be jealous if you want to;  _it has nothing to do with you_.”

They fall silent, Zitao waiting patiently as Jongin studies him in an unreadable but contemplative way, until the werewolf releases his chin and says simply, “I have something I want to show you.”

Zitao scowls because it’s a force of habit; nothing appealing ever follows when Jongin says that phrase.

The werewolf rolls his eyes, “Don’t worry, you may like it, just get ready.”

“I’m naked.” Zitao observes.

“I know, I’ve been trying not to look down all this time.” Jongin’s eyes fall downwards then slides right back accompanied by a smirk, “Ops.” He says and Zitao flushes, just a little, “Oh well, it’s nothing I’ve never seen before.”

Zitao shoves him away, shaking his head as he goes back inside the bathroom for a proper shower.

 

 

Xiumin agrees to lend Jongin his car and then the werewolf proceeds on taking Zitao on the most annoyingly mysterious trip outside the city that he neither has the patience nor the time for.

“Your afternoon dramas can wait, this is more important.”

“What can be more important than Empress Cheon-Chu?”

Jongin glances at Zitao and almost laughs at how serious he looks.

“We’re going to do a trust exercise.”

Trust exercise in the middle of the  _forest_ , is what Jongin doesn’t say. Zitao isn’t dressed for this, shorts and flips flops are not the appropriate outdoor gear for hiking, he doesn’t even have any bug repellent or sunscreen. Thankfully, Jongin is a push-over for his whining and stops their progress just a mile in.

“Why do we have to be in the forest for a  _trust exercise_  anyway?”

Jongin smirks, “So no one can hear your screams.” He says because he really wanted to go deeper into the forest and the troubled look Zitao has on right now is satisfying.

“Jongin.” Zitao looks at him apprehensively when Jongin takes off his t-shirt and then reaches for the front of his jeans. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

Zitao bites his bottom lip, in some way keeping his thoughts from spluttering out his mouth because he doesn’t know how to take that.

“Ah- where are you going with this? And if it’s where I’m beginning to think it is, are you sure this is the best place to do it?”

Head tilted to the side as he pulls his jeans off, Jongin crinkles his brow at Zitao.

“Okay.” Jongin says slowly as he pulls his underwear off and Zitao averts his eyes for the sake of modesty. Jongin kicks his clothes away, they’re on the ground, covered in dead leaves and a little dry earth and Zitao is glad he is not the one doing laundry this weekend. “Just- try to stay calm.”

Zitao opens his mouth to ask why exactly does he need to stay calm but then Jongin bends over; his body contorts for one shocking moment like a doll as it opens and builds into a different form. All he sees is enormousness, dark fur that ravels and sways like spikes and teeth that seem to pour out of the beast’s mouth in rows and rows, dripping acrid saliva. Zitao jumps and screams, his legs move on their own propelling him back so swiftly he crashes into the coarse trunk of a tree. He loses his balance, his knees giving out under him and then seemed to have become defective because his legs don’t even budge no matter how much he begs them.

The wolf moved forward and it was like it was everywhere, surrounding him and trapping him against the tree, even if he could move it wouldn’t make a difference. Zitao could feel his heart pounding between his ears, he covers his hot face with cold fingers as widened eyes take in the suddenly very well-defined world, the center of which is the approach animal that is huffing and groaning as it nears. He closes his eyes.

Dank breath curls around his face, it’s not as pungent as he expects but it does a very good job at freaking him out further and Zitao opens his eyes to find the wolf’s face just a couple of inches away from his. He screams again, pushing at a cold wet snout then pulling his arms back cringing.

Zitao pants as the wolf comes so close that its snout rests on his shoulder, he gasps and withdraws but it is persistent and soon he is covered in surprising warmth and the softest fur. Really, it’s like unbelievably fucking soft. The wolf brings its body down so that it’s lying with Zitao between its front paws, the human almost completely buried in its chest.

“Jongin?” Zitao says softly now that he has relaxed a bit, though his head is still ringing in the aftermath of probably the most debilitating adrenaline rush he has ever experienced. Really, it’s good to know that when his life is in danger his body will most likely become completely useless.

A sound a lot like a whine reverberates out of the wolf’s throat and it’s somehow comforting because it reminds Zitao of puppies, and puppies are generally harmless so maybe if he pretended that Jongin was a giant puppy right now he won’t go into an insane panic. With that thought he finds the confidence to touch Jongin, sinking his arms into tresses of white. Only this patch under Jongin’s head and over his chest was white, the rest of his body was a variegated blend of brown, grey and black. It wasn’t ugly, not at all when he really looked at it, in fact it was really pretty under the sunlight and Zitao thinks it sort of suits Jongin.

“Okay, I get it.” Zitao smiles up at the brown eye that is studying him, “This was a good trust exercise.”

Jongin licks him, his huge tongue wrapping around Zitao’s neck and part of his shoulders. The human screams, because for a moment he honestly thought he was about to be swallowed, but then cringes because he is covered in Jongin’s dog drool- and that is definitely something he would have to talk to Jongin about later.

 

 

The trust exercise was successful but Zitao has a migraine and a sore back by the time they get home that evening.

“Never scare me like that again.” Really, Jongin of all people should know he has a weak heart, but Zitao should also understand how much Jongin enjoys this.

“Well, it’s actually not that hard to do.”

Zitao should hit him, he knows this but Jongin is just so damn far away.

“Jongin, come here.” he calls the other man and Jongin brings the can of whatever it is he’s drinking with him as he moves from the kitchen to the living room where Zitao is lying on his back on the sofa. Zitao gestures for Jongin to bend over and when he does he whacks him over his head with a cushion, a satisfied smirk on his lips after, “That is all.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, he sits opposite Zitao, “So, I was wondering, what time did you say that fashion show was? The one that’s supposed to be this Friday?”

Zitao frowns at him, “Why would  _you_  be wondering about that?”

Jongin shrugs dismissively, he sips his drink then mutters with the can at the edge of his lips, “Thought I’d come.”

There is a pause where Zitao studies him blankly then says just as dryly, “Why?”

“What? I can’t appreciate a little fashion?”

Zitao almost laughs, hysterically, but Jongin looks strangely serious and for some reason it makes his chest flutter and he does this really sappy smile that makes Jongin cringe back at him. He knows Jongin knows that this show is special because it’s the largest job he has ever been asked to assist with alongside Kwon Jiyong. It’s ‘the big one’, this could make him.

“No,” Zitao shakes his head, looking at Jongin with something akin to pity as he mentally recalls Jongin’s taste in clothes. It was even worst before when they had just met so in retrospect Zitao should be patting his own back, “No, you can’t. But it’s really sweet that you’re going to try.”

Now Jongin looked pitying, “Don’t flatter yourself, babe, I’m going for the hot models.”

Zitao snorts, then picks up the cushion, “Jongin, come here.”

 

* * *

 

 

It seems that Jongin is serious about going to the show; he even priced the tickets (then cringed and paled). It was a fund raiser thing, Zitao had explained to him, and then, to his surprised, Jongin forked out enough cash for three seats. He had no idea Jongin was that charitable, even with the latest Grand Theft Auto release just around the corner, maybe he will remind Jongin of that the day  _after_  the fashion show.

Jongin says that he is treating him to lunch when he meets Zitao with Sehun at noon the next day outside of Kwon Jiyong’s studio. Kyungsoo is there also, talking in a deep, measured, but uncomfortably rigid tone to the unfortunate soul on the other end of his cell phone.

“You sure have been kissing a lot of ass lately,” Zitao narrows his eyes at Jongin, who is guiding Kyungsoo across the street, hand in the center of his back as Kyungsoo is now hissing into the receiver. When they get to the pavement Jongin has to turn Kyungsoo by the shoulders to the direction Zitao, Sehun and him are going.

He gives Kyungsoo and his cell phone a weary look as he answers, “You should be more specific.”

“ _Specifically_  my ass,” Zitao says, “Maybe, I don’t really know what you do in your free time…”

Jongin nudges him, they’re shoulders colliding, and Zitao is knocked against Sehun, “What are you talking about? There’s only one ass in my life worthy of kissing.”

“Is this really how the two of you flirt? Because it’s very messed up.” Sehun pokes his head between them, judging the pink spreading across Zitao’s cheeks. Coincidently, Zitao is very interested in his shoes as Sehun tries to squeeze into the space but Jongin pushes him away and he pouts all the back to Zitao’s other side.

“Who’s ass are we talking about?” Kyungsoo is frowning down at his smart phone, even as he repeatedly smashes his thumb onto its face to hang up the call.

Jongin grins, “Zitao’s ass.”

Phone forgotten, Kyungsoo looks up at the other werewolf with a small smile and amused eyes, “Why do you resemble a preschooler sharing his favorite subject with the class right now?”

Sehun giggles at this, he also jaywalks Zitao and Jongin trying to get closer to Kyungsoo, “If Zitao’s ass was a subject Jongin would never fail.”

“Really? You almost killed me just to deliver the lamest joke I’ve ever heard?” Jongin flicks Sehun’s nose and Sehun stumbles back, again, to Zitao’s other side.

“Owww!” he winces as he holds his nose, “I have a job later, what if this goes red?! And you know you like Zitao’s ass, you’re like always slapping it on the down low, I catch you every time!”

Zitao decides that this is a  _great_  time to shift topics.

“So do you think Xiumin-hyung makes Karedok at his café? Because Kwon Jiyong wants it for lunch and that’s why I left the studio in the first place, to find him some Karedok. I think it’s some sort of salad, or dessert. Maybe it’s cake?”

“Why are you talking so loud?” Sehun, still rubbing his nose as he mutters about make-up, people assaulting him without any consideration of his career, and that Karedok is indeed a salad.

“Not sure, Zitao, we’ll check the menu when we get there.” Kyungsoo tells him.

Xiumin’s café is in the middle of lunch rush when they arrive but he still finds them some space on the stools at the counter. Chanyeol is there and Zitao perks up and smiles at him because he hasn’t seen the werewolf since Jongin’s full moon incident. Chanyeol hugs him from behind, a long warm embrace where his deep laughter at Jongin’s glaring washes over Zitao’s head.

“Calm down White Fang, no ripping apart your pack members in Xiumins café.” Kyungsoo squeezes the space behind Jongin’s neck with his fingers and Jongin winces.

“Seriously guys, humans don’t like blood in their coffee.” Xiumin adds as he walks swiftly passed them behind the counter, a tray of steaming plates in his arms.

Zitao frowns,“Are you two still fighting?” he looks between his best friend and Chanyeol, who still has his long limbs wrapped around Zitao.

“Aren’t you done? You know, with the  _hugging_?” Jongin scowls and Chanyeol tightens his hold on Zitao before he moves onto Jongin and Jongin’s cheeks.

“We weren’t genuinely fighting. Little Jongin just gets really moody during his period.” He smiles down at the stretch of Jongin’s cheeks in his fingers and Kyungsoo snorts in his water.

“What are you all talking about?” Sehun leans into the conversation over on Jongin’s end of the line, eyes wide and curious, and everyone looks at him like they had forgotten he was even there. Which they did.

“Who’s Rudolph?” Chanyeol asks and Sehun flushes before he quickly covers his nose again with both hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Kwon Jiyong is a two faced demon. Okay, maybe Zitao already knew that but the way the man switches between charming fashion show host on stage as he talks to the attendees about the foundation all this money is for to the Korean embodiment of Lord Voldemort back stage is frightening in a strangely captivating way. It’s almost mid-show and two stylists have already been fired, no one is sure what happened to that third one but Zitao is sure they’ll find her body in some corner of the building maybe by next week.

It’s because of this sudden shortage that Zitao finds himself leading the styling of the fall fashion section, the reality of which hasn’t hit him yet because Kwon is literally breathing down his neck and one of the stylists on his team looks way too close to an anxiety attack, if his quiet hyperventilating wasn’t making that obvious, so he files this moment under the ‘must celebrate later’ tag and gets to work.

There’s a break in the middle of the show, right before the fall segment goes on, and most of the models are prepped for their first walk so Zitao sneaks away to the catwalk. He peeps through the curtains at the humming audience that flank each side of the narrow walk. There are the celebrities he can recognize at the front rows, along with the press getting their cameras ready for the rest of the show. Zitao’s eyes rake behind them for a familiar face.

He actually sort of expects Jongin to be asleep, draped over the seat in some exaggerated fashion aimed to prove his point, or just not be there at all. What he doesn’t expect is to find Jongin there, sitting right beside Zitao’s  _parents_. Zitao almost clenches the entire curtain down as he suppresses his scream to a shrill wince. He stares wide eyed and blurrily frantic of mind until Kwon Jiyong snaps his name like whip behind him and Zitao jumps and spins around.

The rest of the show after that is filled with ice cold fingers, even in the heat of backstage styling irons and the sweaty models with flushed faces as he peels still fresh make-up art off to replace it with a new layer. But it’s all practiced, they went through this enough at rehearsals and meetings so Zitao works with his mind somehow separated from his body. Body moving through automated paths on his make-up station while his mind consumes itself with the question: how the hell are his parents  _here_ , in Korea, without him knowing? At this show in particular? With Jong- oh.

The models line up for the last walk, they’re clapping as they strut down the catwalk. The designers join the line behind them, along with the foundation director and Kwon Jiyong. Zitao is surprised when, right before he walks out onto the catwalk, Kwon grabs his arm and pulls him along. Zitao is embraced by the applause and the flashing camera lights that are too bright, too disarming for him to concentrate and look for his parent’s faces. He is just too absorbed by everything else. Before he knows it he is at the end of the catwalk, he bows after Kwon does, quickly, and then he’s backstage again being congratulated by his peers and by Kwon Jiyong himself.

 

 

Zitao shoves passed him when Jongin unlocks the door to their flat and Jongin watches his back recede down the hall, tense and quaking. He plays with the keys in his hand as he briefly considers leaving to give Xiumin back his car. Xiumin was probably asleep though because it was really late, Zitao’s parents didn’t want to go back to the hotel so they had all just spent four tortuous hours at the airport trying to get them a flight to Hong Kong.

Strangely, Jongin doesn’t feel tired, but his palms are clammy as he walks towards the kitchen, heart thudding loudly in his hollow chest like a rock in a tin can, he feels slightly nauseous when he finds Zitao. The human is leant over the counter, a forgot glass of water in front of him, his face in his hands, crushing tears and muffling sobs in his palms.

Jongin opens his mouth to say words that hasn’t come to him yet but Zitao beats him, his voice bursting suddenly outward towards Jongin surprisingly steady though a little tight. He doesn’t look up from his glass.

“Why would you do this?”

Jongin’s arms are limp at his sides though his hands are fisted, clenching any nervous twitches or quivering under his knuckles. “I’m sorry Zitao, they- they called and said they were coming-”

“And you got this  _brilliant_  idea to not tell me and sneak them into the fashion show.”

“What was I supposed to do?!” Jongin exclaimed imploringly with outstretched arms, “This entire thing is a mess! You wouldn’t call them no matter what and they keep calling here. You’re not really home because of work so you don’t know exactly how often they call, and it’s a lot Tao, really. They said they were coming and I- I didn’t know what else to do.”

Zitao sucks in, shaking his head at the silence and at Jongin who is staring at him at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at him because Jongin appears disarmingly child-like when he is guilty or upset like this and Zitao doesn’t feel like falling for it. He wants to hold onto this anger, concentrate on that because in the distance there is father’s harsh silence and his mother’s disdainful eyes, their coldness at the airport towards him as they sat as far away as they could, and their wordless departure.

It comes together in a climatic rushing in his chest and ears, there is a scratchy lump in his throat and Zitao feels more tears coming. He pushes away from the counter and walks swiftly towards his bedroom, yanking away from Jongin’s arms when they reach for him, Jongin watches Zitao’s door slam shut.

The entire flat falls so silent now that Jongin wonders if Zitao took all the air with him. He drags his face down with his hands, then repeatedly hits his forehead with his fist as he goes back to his own bedroom muttering, “Genius fucking plan Jongin. See how happy Zitao is now that everything is all settled with his parents? You should be a fucking family mediator!”

He wasn’t alone long before Zitao enters his room, still sniffling but noticeably docile now, and Jongin sits still as he watches Zitao come lie next to him on his bed. He turns to his side and lets Zitao rest his head on his arm, his bended knees knocking against Jongin’s thighs.

“I’m sorry,” Zitao tells him in a soft voice behind his shivering fingers and wet knuckles, “It’s not your fault, its mine because I should have listened to you and told them a long time ago. I was scared.”

Jongin nods as Zitao goes on, his eyes trained on Zitao’s face as he studies carelessly disheveled hair that would never be tolerated under normal circumstances, extra puffy eyes that are damp and flushed as are Zitao’s kittenish lips which the human keeps rubbing at and covering as he talked like he doesn’t want Jongin to see them. See the way they curl and stretch with each twinge of Zitao’s sobs.

Jongin moves the hand away gently, leaving it on Zitao’s chest as he caresses a hot supple cheek, his thumb hovering over the edge of Zitao’s mouth, he leans down and presses their lips together. Just that, with closed eyes and stilled breath, but Zitao freezes and falls silent,  when Jongin moves away and looks down at him he is pouting and looks more irritated than shocked or disgusted or whatever else that Jongin expects.

“Jongin, what are you doing?” Zitao sounds like he is talking to a child he just caught eating finger paints.

Jongin blinks, “K-kissing you?”

“I’m being serious!” Zitao’s voice rises slightly onto hysterical, his arms flaying a bit and hitting Jongin’s chest. “This is serious, my parents have  _disowned_  me and I’m upset!”

“Who said you were disowned? And I’m serious!”

Zitao frowns and cocks his head, “You’re never serious, not about anything. I didn’t even know what sarcasm  _was_  until I met you.”

Jongin tries not to chuckle at that because laughing is really not going to help him, instead he kisses Zitao’s lips again, pecking them between his words as his fingers slip around Zitao’s head and he pulls them closer, “I’m really not kidding right now though.”  He is not kidding, neither are those chills he feels running down his entire body in waves every time his lips meet Zitao’s.

Biting his lip Zitao studies Jongin’s face, “Are you trying to distract me?” cause he is not crying anymore that’s for sure. In fact he feels almost at ease with everything, like Jongin has kissed the pain away and fuck if that isn’t so damn tackily romantic, it makes Zitao sort of cringe that he even thought that. Jongin watches the change in expression and his eyebrows fall.

“No, actually. I-”

“Are you confessing?” Zitao shots, right through his armor, like a torpedo, and Jongin mentally fumbles. He tries to ignore his quickly heating face, the quickly heating everywhere actually, and the quivering rhythm his heart is making in his chest.

Zitao jumps and cries out when Jongin pinches the exposed skin of his waist “Don’t just attack me like that!” he growls into Zitao ear, “ What the hell do you expect me to ‘confess’ anyway?”

Zitao watches Jongin’s stare shifting away from his now, the way Jongin’s hands are beginning to slip from Zitao’s body, losing their possessive clasp, their confidence, but he won’t let that happen. His fingers intertwine Jongin’s hair and Zitao pulls him down for a solid kiss, not like Jongin’s incomplete ones that are held back and irritate Zitao because he can feel the knotted tension coiled like momentum behind the werewolf’s lips. Zitao communicates everything with his tongue and his teeth and the soft mewls gasped into Jongin’s mouth. He gives Jongin his answer to the question he is obviously too pussy to ask but that’s okay because

“Me too.”

 

 

Zitao’s parents call him a month later. He guesses it has taken them that long to calm down enough to talk to him. He picks up the phone, right as he was about to head out to work at Kwon Jiyong’s studio, and it’s his mother. She doesn’t apologize (though Zitao does, over and over again) or pretends she understands, or even pretends that she is not angry, but she does ask him about how he is going and scolds him about not returning their calls, that he should check up on his parents every once in a while.

He expects to be asked to return home or be asked what exactly his plan is when he has never really had one besides surviving and getting better at what he does, but that never happens.

“There is something different about you two.” Kyungsoo is glaring at Zitao and Jongin like they’ve done something wrong, which makes Xiumin stop what he was doing behind the counter and study them also. Zitao and Jongin just blink at them because really what’s so suspicious about sitting next to each other?

“They’re more disgusting than usual.” Sehun scowls at them, he is sitting on the other side of Kyungsoo, who is now sniffing Zitao just a few inches up from his nape. Zitao inclines an eyebrow at him but the werewolf seems pretty engrossed and Zitao doesn’t really know how he feels about that. Sehun seems to know though because he has stopped eating and is staring at Kyungsoo like- like one would when someone smells one’s friend.

Kyungsoo smiles at Zitao when he is finished, resting his chin in his palm as he looked at him and Jongin like they were the cutest things then says crudely, “You two are fucking.”

Zitao’s eyes widen as Jongin snorts then begins to chortle.

“No way!” Chanyeol, who wasn’t exactly paying attention until now apparently, shot out of his seat. Zitao’s face is heating up, he looks down at his food trying to hide his awkward grin that he can’t control. Jongin seems to find this endearing because he tries to caress his cheek. Zitao puts the touching between them right now to a fast stop with one elbow dug, hard, into the werewolf’s side. He feels very accomplished when Jongin winces and rubs the spot, though it’s brief, and he is still smirking.

Prick.

“Wait, weren’t they always like that?” Sehun looks between them.

“No, Jongin didn’t have the balls.” Chanyeol tells him, Zitao sits still as the tallest of them hovers over him and also begins sniffing. He wonders if he should get used to this, a life where merely asking someone a question fails in comparison to just leaning down and breathing them in.

Chanyeol shots Jongin a shit eating grin when he is finished, “He still doesn’t.”

Jongin smiles around the finger he flips Chanyeol.

Sehun is frowning at them all, quickly getting frustrated because he has been hanging out with Zitao’s new friends for a while now and they still seem to be sharing some big inside joke that always flies right over his head, “What are you talking about?!” he whines clenching his chop sticks like a knife as he thrust it towards Chanyeol.

“You have to actually fuck someone before they become your mate.”

Sehun pauses, thinks about it- nope, still don’t get it- then stabs Chanyeol harder with his chop sticks while grumbling about secret clubs and conspiracies.

Zitao is too hung up on the last word that Chanyeol had said. Does this mean he’s an omega? But the thought of an alpha Jongin kind of makes him want to laugh, a lot. Every steaming hot mating scene he has ever read played out in his head, the possessive passion and cheesy romantic words muttered in the heat of the marking bite(“now you’re mine” “no other can touch you, can have you”). He covers his flushed face with his hands then glanced up to find Jongin staring at him quizzically, like he is trying not to laugh at Zitao. He kisses him instead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on AFF.


End file.
